


Heart of Gold

by StarrKiwi



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:05:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrKiwi/pseuds/StarrKiwi
Summary: When things take a turn for worse after the strike, Jack has to make choice between digging up his past that he's hidden so well, and to keep hidden, risking Crutchie's life.Really though, there wasn't even a choice.Was there?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote the first few chapters of this a year or so ago, and then just got into a big writing slump. But I'm back! And hopefully I can finish this story.  
> Enjoy!

Lies.

Jack had lied about almost everything before. That he had plenty to eat so they boys would eat his food, the headline, how he’s feeling, his own feelings, the list goes on.

But there was one lie that was eating away at him from the inside out. And he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to tell someone. Had to just let it out. But it was such a big thing, that the someone he told would probably hate him forever.

The thing is, Crutchie was good at telling Jack’s truth from the lies. So either way, Crutchie would see the truth of what Jack was saying. But somehow, Jack always was able to keep this subject out of conversation enough that Crutchie didn’t catch on.

Yet.

* * *

 

One night up on the roof, the sky was a beautiful orange and purple with the setting sun.

Usually Jack would be taking in the gorgeous view, but he wasn’t, and Crutchie could tell something was wrong. Jack was pacing and mumbling things, clearly distraught. After a while of watching Jack try to sort through his brain, Crutchie limped over and put a gentle hand on his arm. “Jack, you’re breathing, right?”

Jack looked at Crutchie, and carefully let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. That was something Jack loved about Crutchie. He never asked for Jack to tell him what was wrong, or tell him it would all be okay and to calm down. He just reminded Jack to breathe, and that he was always there for him no matter what.   
Jack paced for a while more while Crutchie calmly reminded him to keep breathing. Finally Jack sat down next to Crutchie with his legs dangling off the roof.

“Crutch. What do you think of me?” Jack finally asked.

Crutchie sputtered, not expecting that question. There was no way he could tell Jack what he really thought. So after playing with the words, he finally came up with “I think that you’re an amazing leader for us, and I’m very lucky to call you my best friend.”

Jack smiled softly, and threw an arm around Crutchies shoulders. “You think so?”

“Of course.” Crutchie leaned into Jack just like always, drinking in the moment. “Why?”

Jack took another breath. “I wanted to know if there was a reason that opinion of me would change.”

“Maybe if you beat us all up with a smile on your face like the Delancey Brothers do. But other than that, I don’t think so.”

“I ain’t gonna beat you up, Crutch.”

“Then nothing will change it. Why?” A thought occurred to Crutchie and suddenly he couldn’t swallow. “Are you… are you leaving for Santa Fe, Jack?”

Jack quickly shook his head. “No! No nothing like that. I ain’t goin' no where for a while, and when I do, you’re comin’ with me.”

“I am?” Crutchies face lit up and he melted into Jack’s side even more.

“Yeah.” Jack squeezed Crutchies shoulders. “If you wanna come.”

“I wanna go anywhere with you.”

Jack smiled, his previous worry leaving him completely.

After a while of happy silence, Crutchie brought it up once more. “So what were you trying to say earlier, Jack? About me changing my opinion of you?”

Jack’s expression darkened. “Oh. Right.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

But Jack had kept it a secret for so long, he couldn’t keep it one any longer. “Crutch, how would you feel if I told you my father was really, extremely wealthy?”

“You have told me. He has a heart of gold, I know. Takin' care of you until the streets finally kicked him to the curb. But he was always there for you.” Crutchie smiled warmly at Jack. This story however, was a lie, and Crutchie knew that Jack knew that he knew it was a lie. But neither of them brought it up, and Crutchie figured that Jack's past was too bad to talk about, so he made up a story. It made sense to Crutchie.

Jack sighed at the sensitive topic. “No, I mean wealth. Money wise.”

Crutchie would have laughed, but Jack just looked so serious, he couldn’t bring himself to try and make a joke of it. “I would ask you what you’re still doing here and not in Santa Fe, being happy and living your dream?”

“That ain’t the answer I was looking for, Crutch.” There was almost a sort of impatience in his tone. “How would you, Crutchie Morris feel if my father was rich?"

Crutchie thought and thought, until the words finally came to him. “I would feel weird, and wonder why you is out here selling papers and spending time with nobody’s like us.”

“Being rich,” Jack pointed out with a shake of his head, “Don't mean you can’t have friends or not be a decent human being.” He sighed. “I mean, I ain’t saying I'm decent human anyway.”

“You are too. Jack, why did you bring this up?” Crutchie was holding Jack’s hands, playing with their fingers.

Jack pulled a hand away and ran it through his hair with a deep sigh. There was no going back now. “I just wanted to know how exactly you’d feel if I told you that my father is Joseph Pulitzer.” And with that, Jack stood up and walked away, leaving Crutchie to process what just happened,

The strangest part? Crutchie knew for a fact that Jack wasn’t lying.


	2. Joseph Pulitzer Jr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack explains his past to Crutchie.

Five year old Joseph Pulitzer Jr. stood behind his father, horrified, but not surprised, as the man turned down a family who was begging for money to buy food. When he shut the door in their face and turned around to see Junior standing there, he got angry.   
  
“I told you never to come to the door!” Pulitzer shouted at his own son. “What if people see you? They’ll start asking questions, the word would get out, and my company would be finished!”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Junior looked down.  
  
“As far as anyone knows, you died as a baby. I’ve told you that hundreds of times before. Now go to your room before you make your mother upset. She already has enough to do with Katherine.”  
  
“She’s always with Katherine.” Junior complained. “She never spends time with me!”   
  
“Go to your room.” He demanded again.   
  
So he did, mumbling about the unfairness of it all. All he ever did was go to his room. When his parents had people over they would lock him in his room. Sometimes he would even have to eat in his room. His nanny, Medda Larkin, was the only one who seemed to really care about him or spend time with him.   
  
He drew. A lot. That was the only thing he could do to keep him from going crazy. He drew open spaces and fresh air, no walls or nothing to keep him trapped inside. As a kid he never realized how good he really was.  
  
When Junior was a baby, he got sick. Really sick. The press had found out about it and asked to write an article about it. The sales of papers that day had exploded, and suddenly Joseph Pulitzer Jr was all anyone ever talked about. But when Junior got better, the buzz disappeared like it never happened. One morning, Pulitzer told the press that his son had passed away earlier in the week. The newspapers once again exploded in sales, and baby Pulitzer was never to see the outside again, unless it was through a window.   
  
He even had his own gravestone.   
  
Which is why Junior was fed up.  Medda started taking more time off, the new theater she bought taking a lot of her time. Pretty soon, she left all together, Pulitzer claiming Junior could take care of himself, and that he didn’t need a nanny.  
  
He might not have needed her, but he missed her.   
  
On his sixth birthday he ran away for good. He brought a change of clothes, his drawing supplies, and determination. He wasn’t sure how to get where he was headed, but he knew where he was going to go.  
  
The outside world was terrifying. Being on the streets was a lot different then looking out a window from way above the streets.  
  
He got lost. He knew he should have asked for directions, but everyone on the street looked like they could kill him with their pinky finger. He had never spoken to anyone before except his four year old sister, his parents, and Medda.   
  
By some stroke of luck he stumbled upon a building that read “Medda’s Theater”, which was exactly where he needed to go.  
  
He snuck in through the back, and when he saw Medda working with two other girls, his heart soared as he smiled. He hadn’t seen her in months. Suddenly he was being yelled at by some old guy. He cringed, being reminded of his father’s lectures, but suddenly the man was cut off when someone came over and hugged him.   
  
“Junior!”   
  
It was Medda. Junior would know that voice anywhere.  He hugged her back tightly. “How have you been, kid? What are you doing here?” She asked once she finally pulled away.   
  
Junior’s expression darkened. “I ran away. And I’m never going back there again. Could I maybe stay with you?”  
  
“Oh honey.” Medda pulled him in again. “Your father will be angry and come looking for you, you know that, right?”  
  
“And you’ll hide me, right? You won’t make me go back there?” Junior half begged.   
  
“Oh Junior. I’ll try my best, but I can’t guarantee anything.” She ruffled his hair.   
  
“I’m really good at hiding, I can hide here too if I need to.” He pointed out, glad she wasn’t sending him back home.  
  
Before Medda had a chance to continue the conversation, the stage manager interrupted.   
  
“Miss Medda! You’re on!”   
  
“I am?” Medda gasped. “Well how’m I doing?” She laughed, but no one else did. She then ushered Junior to sit backstage, and quickly went back out on stage to perform.   
 

* * *

  
Junior changed his name to Jack Kelly a week later. He claimed that he wanted a real name, and not one that would constantly remind him of his dad. He picked the name out himself, and took pride in it.   
  
Medda was the most helpful, supportive parent ever. She knew for a fact that if Pulitzer knew she was keeping him there, he could destroy everything she worked for. But since there were only 4 people on the earth who knew who he really was, it wasn’t too hard to hide him.   
  
Jack worked for Medda as a stage hand. After the shows he would clean up the theater and the box office, helping her get ready for the show the next evening. It wasn’t too hard, and it made him feel a lot better about staying at the theater and using some of her money for food.  
  
Jack still didn’t go outside until about five months later. He claimed it was still too risky. Even if Pulitzer was hardly outside the house, there still might have been a chance he would be spotted. He figured he could just stay and work for another year or so until Pulitzer would just forget about him all together.  
  
The plan was working well too, until Medda pulled the young boy aside one night.   
  
“Jack, sweetie. Pulitzer called in this afternoon to tell me he and his family will be coming to see the show tomorrow night.” Medda sweetly, but cautiously informed. She quickly learned to not call Pulitzer Jack’s father, or associate him with the family at all. Jack wanted nothing to do with that snooty bunch.  
  
Jack groaned at the news. “Does that mean I can’t help out with the theater without being seen?  
  
"Jack.” She put her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “How would you like to leave the theater for the night?”   
  
His eyes widened. “What? But what if Pulitzer sees me? What if-”   
  
“Shh, honey, don’t worry. Pulitzer will be here most of the night.”   
  
“Still. I can’t go back there, Miss Medda. I can’t.”   
  
“What if we throw a hat on your head and put you in some old clothes? Deal?” She suggested sweetly.  
  
Jack thought about it. It might be easier and less risky than staying and getting caught by Pulitzer. “Deal.” He forced a smile, and Medda pulled him into a hug.  
  
The next morning, Jack had on a pair of old clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks. He was covered head to toe in dirt, being dirtier than he ever has been before.   
  
He felt nasty, and he loved it. If he had to choose between this and having a nice shower every day, hands down he would choose this.   
  
When Jack looked in the mirror, he could hardly even recognize himself.   
  
The question was, would Medda? She knew him better than anyone. If she didn’t recognize him, no one would.  
  
Jack ran to the back doors of the theatre, and got up on the catwalk just looking down at the stage. Medda wasn’t paying attention to him, talking to a guy. He coughed to get her attention.   
  
After a moment she finally turned around. “Hey, you up there!” She pointed to Jack. “No kids allowed in the theater!”  
  
“Not even me, Miss Medda?” Jack called down with a smirk.   
It was then he knew that this disguise would work. If Medda couldn’t recognize him, how would Pulitzer? 

* * *

  
“I went outside a lot more after that night. And I never wanted to go back in. Which is why I usually sleep up here.” Jack kept his eyes away from Crutchie, but he kept the boy’s hand held in a death grip, worried that Crutchie would just up and leave him in the middle of the story.   
  
“That makes sense…” Crutchie finally said, talking for the first time since Jack began to talk about his past. His voice cracked a bit.  
  
It had almost been a week since Jack had told Crutchie his big secret. Neither of them brought it up beforehand, but Crutchie was ready anytime Jack wanted to talk. Jack finally pulled him close that night and just started to tell the story, Crutchie listening closely to every word.  
  
Jack finally looked over into Crutchies bright brown eyes. The bright happy eyes he knew so well were laced with tears that dripped slowly down his sunburnt cheeks. Jack wished he could lean over and kiss them away. He hated it when Crutchie cried.  
  
It was silent as the two just looked at each other, their hearts aching. “It’s beautiful up here.” Crutchie finally commented, not knowing what else to say.  
  
“Not as beautiful as you.” Jack said without realizing.   
  
Crutchie’s cheeks turned a deep red, and his grip on Jack’s hand seemed to get tighter.  He looked down at his lap to hide his blushing cheeks. “What?”   
  
“I-” Jack swallowed trying to find a quick way to talk himself out of the situation. He couldn’t find one.   
  
“So… that’s why you wanna get out of here so bad and go to Santa Fe?” Crutchie asked, and Jack sighed in relief, secretly thanking him for changing the subject.  
  
But really the only reason Crutchie changed the certain subject was because he couldn’t stand to hear Jack tell him it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to say those words.   
  
“I read a book on Santa Fe back when I was at Pulitzer’s. And ever since then that’s only where I’ve ever wanted to go to.”   
  
A breeze made it’s way to the two boys sitting on the rooftop, and Crutchie shivered. Despite being a little sunburnt, the weather was getting colder and he didn’t like it.  
  
Instinctively, Jack threw an arm around him, pulling the shivering boy close. Crutchie melted into his side, Jack always being a human furnace. It gave a great excuse for both of them for winter cuddles.   
  
“So that’s why I was so pissed when that snot raised the prices.” Jack continued once they were comfortable. “Because I was related to him. I couldn’t bare the thought that someone who would pull a stunt like that was my own father. Even though I know my father. I shoulda guessed that greedy bastard would do something like that.” He growled, which made Crutchie chuckle.   
  
“Quit laughin’.” Jack whined, turning to look down at Crutchie.  
  
“Sorry.” Crutchie shook his head. “You’re just funny when you’re upset.”  
  
“Shut up.” Jack grumbled, pulling him closer.  
  
Silence stretched between the two friends. “Does Kathrine know?” Crutchie finally asked, playing with Jack’s fingers.   
  
Jack looked down at the boy, and then shook his head. “Nah. You and Medda are the only ones.”   
  
“Are you gonna tell her?”   
  
Jack bit back a laugh. “Seeing as she kissed me the day I found out she was Pulitzer’s daughter back during the strike, I’m gonna go with no. Otherwise that just might make it awkward.”   
  
Crutchie sat up to look at him in shock. “She kissed you?! What did you do?”   
  
Jack bit his lip. “I pulled away. What else could I do?”   
  
“What did you tell her?”   
  
“I told her…” Jack looked away from Crutchie and let go of his hand. “I told her that I had my heart set on someone else.”  
  
It was in that moment, Crutchie's heart dropped and seemed to shatter. So it was true then. He did like someone. "Davey?“ He finally said, his mouth feeling dry.   
  
Jack shook his head. "Nah. But it doesn’t matter. It got her to stop askin’ me questions.”  
  
“Oh.” Crutchie felt a gross taste come to his mouth, and he didn’t like it one bit.  
  
“Who woulda thought-” Jack laughed, looking back at Crutchie, “that my first kiss would be with my own sister?” He chuckled.  
  
“That was your first?” Crutchie then wished it would have been him. He unsurprisingly felt really disappointed. He thought for sure that there were other people, other girls, that Jack had been with before.  
  
“First and only. I couldn’t even enjoy it.”   
  
“Maybe… that special someone of yours will realize what they’re missing soon.” Crutchie suggested, causing Jack to look over at him once more.  
  
“I doubt it.” Jack finally said, staring straight into Crutchies eyes.  
  
“If they don’t I’ll hit ‘em with my crutch.” Crutchie threatened, wanting a laugh out of Jack.   
  
It earned him a smile which was better than nothing.   
  
“What about you?” Jack asked, dying to know. “You ever get kissed by a special someone?”   
  
Crutchie’s breath caught. “No.” He finally said. He didn’t tell Jack that no one in their right mind would want to kiss a gimp leg like him. “If someone were to kiss me right now, I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Crutchie said instead, looking at Jack, silently begging him to just kiss him. But Jack didn’t. Why would he? If anything Jack seemed to back away a bit. “I guess I’m just savin’ it for my special someone.” Crutchie finally admitted, disappointed.   
  
“You’ll get it one day, I promise.” Jack half smiled.  
  
There was no answer to that.  
  
“So you really ain’t mad that I never told you before?” Jack changed the subject once more.  
  
“Nah. It makes sense.” There was another cold breeze that washed over them and Jack pulled him close once again. “If my father was Hearst,” Crutchie yawned getting comfortable, “I probably wouldn’t have told you either.”   
  
Jack chuckled. “He’s not, is he?”   
  
“I guess you’ll never know.” Crutchie teased with a smile. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Jack, Stop it!”

Jack froze. The voice that was hardly ever angry, was angry. Really angry.

“Crutch, I’m just trying to-”

“I don’t care! Leave me  _alone_!”

Jack let go of Crutchie’s shoulder and set down the bandage he was attempting to tie around Crutchie’s arm.

Unfamiliar silence rang through the lodge as all the boys sat in shock. Crutchie let out a frustrated huff as Jack stood up off the bed.

“Why does it take me yelling at you to get you to listen?” he grumbled, turning away from him. “I’m not five years old. I can take care of myself, Jack.”

Jack felt like Crutchie had driven a sword right through his heart. Those words sounded so bitter, so cold. That wasn’t the voice of his sunshine Crutchie.

Jack went up to the rooftop, and slowly the other boys began to go back to whatever they were doing before, leaving Crutchie to himself. He picked at the cut on his right arm, scowling. It almost looked like a battle scar. Who would have thought he could get a cut so big from tripping? That’s what Jack had said with a warm chuckle.

But he didn’t trip.

It was easier that way. Easier than telling him the Delancey brothers pushed him down harshly after stealing his crutch, easier to say a rock scraped his arm, and not Oscars brass knuckles. It was easier to hide the bruises that discolored his stomach from Oscar’s kick. Easier to smile his way out of the hurt that Morris’ insults caused him.

Lying that he tripped was so much easier for Jack.

But it wasn’t easier for Crutchie; he hated lying.

The next morning, even though it was a good headline, Crutchie only bought thirty papers. His mouth felt dry and his leg was hurting more than usual and Crutchie just didn’t want to have to struggle to sell a large amount of papes. Crutchie expected Jack to come ask if he was doing alright, like he always did when he bought less papers than normal. Instead, Jack left without a word. Crutchie bit his lip, watching as Jack left the distribution center. Why would Jack–? Oh. Crutchie curled his fingers tightly into a fist, recalling all too well the harsh words exchanged between the pair.

_I can take care of myself, Jack._

Before Crutchie could truly regret the truth–because it was truth; Crutchie could handle himself and he didn’t need Jack constantly hanging around–he turned away, starting out of the distribution center. He would be okay without Jack hovering over him for one day while selling in his condition. He would be just fine.

Right?

Well, maybe fine had been a stretch.

As he went through the day selling, Crutchie quickly realized that he missed Jack’s constant, familiar presence. Not having Jack there wasn’t awful, by any means. But, it was lonely. He was fine by himself, Crutchie knew that. But that knowledge didn’t keep Crutchie from missing Jack. Jack, who would be by his side in an instant to help him up when he tripped over his own feet, who would help gather up his papers. Jack, who could take his breath away without any warning, who was always willing to help or be a silent shoulder to cry on when nights were really bad.

Jack, who wasn't carefully watching Crutchie with concern, all because Crutchie had yelled at him.

But now, Jack wasn’t there and Crutchie refused to entertain the niggling feeling that he needed Jack more than anything.

Because he didn’t. He was just fine on his own.

He didn’t need Jack Kelly.

Lying on the ground from his stumble, Crutchie sighed, wondering whether it was worth it to get back up and push through the rest of the miserable, sticky day.

Crutchie eventually pulled himself off the ground and, with a heavy sigh, decided to just call it a day and head back to the Lodging House.

A few hours after Crutchie had settled himself into a corner of the lodge, a few of the boys began to show up, finished with the day’s work. Crutchie could hear their laughter ringing through the walls as they made their way up the staircase, joking and play fighting like usual. The sound made him feel a little better, glad that his brothers didn’t have the heavy cloud hanging over him that seemed to constantly weigh against his shoulders lately. That feeling changed as the boys entered the room, grinning. For some reason, Crutchie felt jealousy burrow deep into the pit of his stomach as he recognized that there was nothing bothering them.

So why did this strange feeling bother Crutchie?

Once it was night, and most of the boys had said goodnight, Crutchie slowly sat up, immediately noticing that Jack hadn’t come inside. A guilty feeling clenched his stomach, and though it was a difficult choice, he knew he needed to go apologize.

A cry from below caught Jack’s attention. He quickly abandoned his drawing and sped walked over to the ledge from where the sound came from.

“Crutchie!” He was halfway down the metal ladder before his brain had time to think, helping up the boy who was clinging on for dear life. Once Crutchie was safely on the roof, Jack crouched down next to him. “Are you alright?” Jack questioned, reaching for Crutchie’s trembling hands. He stopped himself quickly. Jack wasn’t sure if he could handle Crutchie pushing him away again.

“I’m fine.” Crutchie replied quietly. “My foot just slipped.” He noticed Jack eyeing his hands and it felt weird that he didn’t examine them thoroughly like he normally would.  Crutchie was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath from the scare. “I’m sorry. I just- I wanted to apologize…” Crutchie bit his lip after a long demur. He held out his hands to Jack, who diligently looked them over for any damage. Content with the lack of injury, Jack gave them a quick squeeze before releasing them.

Crutchie’s hands hung, suspended in the air for a long moment, before he dropped them to his thighs. He shoved away the sudden feeling of longing that pressed at the edge of his ribs, and was about to apologize again when Jack spoke up.

“Me too, kid. I’m-” Jack searched for the right word. Sorry didn’t sound like quite right, but he couldn’t think of a better way to state what he was feeling. Standing back up and walking over to the ledge, Jack looked at the dark night sky. With his arms on the railing, he leaned against it, deep in thought. “I know you can take care of yourself. I know it. But, I guess I just I want you to know I’m there. For you. And I’ll always be willing to help.” A hand was placed on his arm as Jack was speaking, but he continued looking out in front of him at the city, not wanting to see the expression on Crutchie’s face. “I guess I just want to help too much sometimes, huh?”

The air was thick with silence. Crutchie took a deep breath before speaking up. “I–I didn’t trip.” The voice that came from Crutchie was confident, with an undertone of shame. “I lied to you, Jack.”

Jack wasn’t certain if he should tell Crutchie he already knew that he didn’t trip, but he shut down that idea pretty fast. If the kid knew just how easily Jack could see through his lies, it might push Crutchie further away from him. Which was the last thing Jack wanted.

“The Delancey’s?” Jack guessed, finally taking his eyes off the city and placing them on Crutchie.

Crutchie’s eyes were rimmed with tears. When he nodded a confirmation, Jack swiftly reached his hand over and cupped Crutchies cheek, tenderly wiping away the tear that escaped. “It wasn’t that bad. I didn’t want you to worry.” Crutchie leaned into Jack’s gentle touch. “You’re always so worried and I…” He trailed off, and looked anywhere but Jack’s warm eyes.

“You didn’t wanna worry me more?” Jack guessed, trying to finish Crutchie's thought. When a nod came in reply, Jack used his thumb to softly stroke Crutchie’s cheekbones, “Like it or not kid, I’m always gonna worry about you.”

“Why?”

Jack found himself lost for words. He finally looked away from Crutchie’s wet brown eyes, and dropped his hand. Crutchie moved faster and impulsively grabbed his hand halfway through it’s descent to Jack’s side. Jack couldn’t help but look down at their intertwined fingers, before looking back up at Crutchie. “Because…” He began, but didn’t finish his thought.

“That clears things right up.” Crutchie smiled after a moment when Jack didn’t answer.

Jack shook his head, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I just—” Jack leaned out on the railing more, keeping their fingers locked together. “I ain’t had no one lookin’ after me growing up. And I know you’se all grown up now, but when I found you, I promised myself I would always protect you. That I’d never let nothing happen to you.”

“That's… a boring life for me, huh?” Crutchie teased. “If nothing ever happens to me?”

Jack shook his head and gave a half crooked smile, throwing his arm around Crutchie. “That’s why I ain’t never letting you off of this roof again.”

“But Jaaacck.” Crutchie whined, breathing in the familiar scent of Jack. If anyone were to ask him to describe the smell, Crutchie would never know what to say. It’s just… It’s safe. And even that wouldn’t do Jack justice. “That’s no fun,” Crutchie groused, half teasing and half complaining.

“I can’t lose you, kid. I can’t.” Jack said through a strained smile, joking but also one hundred percent serious. “You wanna know somethin’? If I could only have one person by my side for the rest of my life, I’d choose you.”

“Me?” Crutchie gaped, astounded someone he loved so much would be saying that to him. “But what about Davey? Or Specs? Or Buttons- or Finch, or-or-”

Crutchie cut himself off when Jack placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “They'se all great, Crutchie, but I wanna let you in on a little secret; the rest of the boys aren’t you.”

“What’s so special about me?”

“You…” Jack scratched the back of his head. “You just- light up my life.” Crutchie could tell Jack wanted to say something else, but he didn’t push it.

Crutchie took this new information in slowly, and took his gentle gaze off of Jack, looking into the empty streets below. “I’d choose you too.” Crutchie admitted after a bit, glad the dark was hiding the blush that was crawling up his cheeks. He felt Jack squeeze his hand gently.

In that moment, there was a silent promise that was shared between them. One that would be treasured throughout their lives.

At least, that’s what Crutchie thought.

* * *

“Dave, I don’t know what to do!” Jack’s voice carried down to the bottom of the ladder, making Crutchie pause in his efforts to climb it. His heart sank. What was Davey doing up there?

“Jack, just breathe. It’s gonna be alright.” Crutchie could hear Davey’s patient voice. He was glad that Davey was there to comfort Jack with whatever he was going through at the time. Jack could get himself worked up so bad to the point he could barely breathe if someone didn’t remind him. If Crutchie was being honest with himself, though, he was slightly jealous that he wasn’t the one to be comforting Jack.

Why was Davey up there in the first place?  _The rooftop is our space._

“I don’t know if it will, Dave. That’s why I need you to tell me otherwise.”

“I am, Jack.” Davey softened his voice. “I’m here for you. You just need to tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“I think you know what’s bothering me…” Jack softened his voice as well. Crutchie strained to hear the next hushed sentence. “Everyone probably does, but him.”

Davey took a deep breath in. “This about Crutchie?”

Crutchie took a step back in shock.  _What?_

Jack let out a shaky sigh. “Course it is, Dave. It’s always about him,”

_What was that supposed to mean?_

“Everyday is gettin’ harder to handle with him around. I’m scared that soon I’m gonna just- explode. Let everything I’ve been feeling out. I almost did it the other night! We were being so open with each other- it took everything in me not to let it out!”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because, Dave, then he’ll leave me, probably forever, and I can’t have that happen!”

“Why in the world would he leave, Jack?”

“I-I dunno. Because it would probably all be too much for him.” Jack sounded so sad, so defeated. Crutchie didn’t like him sounding so sad.

Davey almost let out a laugh. “Jack. I know he won’t leave.”

_Excuse me?_  Crutchie felt his throat tighten, gripped his crutch tighter, and narrowed his eyes.

Crutchie liked Davey. He was smart, nice, a real good friend. But suddenly he didn’t like him that much anymore. Who was Davey to tell Jack what Crutchie thought? Crutchie was supposed to be able to decide and tell the others how he feels. Not Davey. Just because Crutchie pretended to be happy all the time, didn't mean he always was. He has other emotions. And right now. He was feeling anger. Lots of anger.

“How do you know? Did he tell you?” Crutchie was pulled from his angry thoughts, as Jack spoke up again, his voice rushed, anxious.

“Of course not. But Jack, you know Crutchie better than I do. He won’t leave if you tell him. He may surprise you.”

“I hope you’se right.” Jack sighed. “Because I don’t think I can live without that kid.”

So many emotions were going through Crutchie. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Crutchie had no idea what they were talking about, what it was that Jack couldn’t tell him because he might leave or something. Crutchie turned and went back into the lodge once the two stopped talking about him. In his haste, he almost tripped over himself, but didn’t let that stop him from pushing on. He kept his head down as he walked down the darkening street away from the lodge. He just needed to walk. Just cool down.

Crutchie liked walking. He liked looking around at the sky and buildings, he liked seeing flowers and the little kids playing with each other. But he didn’t take joy in that this particular walk.

He felt something wet drip on his nose. Then on his hand. Drip. Drip. Drip.

_Great._

Rain was just what he needed to make his mood better. Crutchie scowled, but didn’t turn back to the lodge yet. A little rain couldn’t hurt him.

Five minutes later, it was pouring as hard as Crutchie could ever remember it raining. It was hard to see, the rain blurring his vision of the lampposts, and the further he walked, the more unsure he was of where the lodging house was. After an hour of wandering around, Crutchie had to admit it to himself. He was lost. Soaked to the bone and cold, he tried to convince himself to turn around and try to find his way back, but he wouldn’t. He was still angry, if not more than before, and Crutchie didn’t want anyone to see him this angry.

His crutch had slipped in the wet countless times, and it just happened again when something startled him. “You lost?” Crutchie whipped his head up at the voice, but couldn’t see who it was, just the silhouette. The figure stepped closer to Crutchie, and he instinctively stepped back.

“Don’t mess with me.” Crutchie clutched his crutch tighter in his hand, not wanting to get in a fight. He’d feel bad for the other guy. He was angry, and the last time he got in a fight with this much anger inside him, the other dude left with four broken fingers, a broken nose, and a the ugliest black eye anyone had ever seen.

“I ain’t here to hurt you, Crutchie. It’s me.” With another step forward, Crutchie realized it was actually Spot. Letting out a sigh of relief, Crutchie let his grip loosen on his crutch. “You out lost wandering around in the rain at night for a good reason?” Spot asked, sizing Crutchie up.

“I ain’t lost, Spot.” Crutchie almost spat. “I just- I ain’t sure what location I’m currently located in.”

Spot shook his head. He would have laughed but he could tell Crutchie was upset. So he stuck with reason. “You’re lost.”

“I ain’t!”

“Then why’re you in Brooklyn?”

Crutchie was shocked. He didn’t realize he had crossed the Brooklyn bridge. “Because-” Crutchie wasn’t sure what to say. “Because I don’t wanna be in Manhattan,” he finished lamely. “Brooklyn sounded better.” It wasn’t a lie. He really didn’t want to be in Manhattan.

“Crutchie.” Spot reached out and put a hand on Crutchie’s shoulder. “You ain’t in Brooklyn.”

Crutchie furrowed his brow and pulled away from Spot’s touch. “What the heck? What’re tryin’ to do, Spot?”

Spot put his hands in the air. “Relax, kid. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re out in a storm like this. Did Kelly do something?”

Crutchie groaned, mad that Spot wouldn’t just leave him alone. “He always does something.”

Spot chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.”  

“Why am I in love with him?” Crutchie’s voice got louder with each word, glad to be getting out his emotions in front of someone who wouldn’t judge him.

“I ask myself that about Higgins everyday,” Spot replied.

“At least you know he likes you back!” Crutchie felt hot angry tears streaming down his face, but they mixed in instantly with the rain. “And at least Race doesn’t talk bad about you behind your back! You don’t know what it’s like! So just-! Just shut up!” Before Crutchie knew what was happening, his fist went flying and he nailed Spot square in the face, as hard as he could.


End file.
